


Chekov Does Laundry

by josiechambers3



Series: All of the Star Trek One-Shots!!! :3 [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (Chekov really can get mad what do you know), Gen, I swear it's funny (or I just have a bad sense of humor…), I wrote a ten page story about laundry oh my gosh what am I doing with my life, Laundry, M/M, Multi, Not boring I swear (even though it's about laundry), One Shot, total crack i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiechambers3/pseuds/josiechambers3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate title: Chekov, Laundrywoman of the USS Enterprise</p><p>xD Title says all, really. Chekov gets a day off, and he has it all planned out...but first, he has to do his laundry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chekov Does Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> This one is really weird. Like, REALLY weird. I honestly have no idea where it came from. I guess I was doing laundry one day and wondered how they did laundry on the Enterprise. And yeah, they probably have machines that automatically do it for them, but for now, pretend that they just have a little communal laundry-room or something. :P  
> (P.S. Not really any hugely emphasized pairings. If you squint you'll find McSpirk and...what is it, Chulu? Chekov x Sulu. Yeah. That. I'm considering broadening my horizons and writing more pairings and one-shots than just Spork and McSpork. :3)  
> (P.P.S. Imma try my hand at writing his accent, and if it fails, pretend I did that on purpose. :P bc it IS a crack-fic after all.)

"All right, you're off for the rest of the day, Chekov," Captain Kirk dismissed the eager young Russian. "Enjoy it."

"Aye-aye, keptin!" Chekov grinned happily as he walked off of the bridge. He had his perfect day off planned out perfectly, and he couldn't wait to get started.

But first, the dreaded task...

...laundry.

Chekov didn't really hate doing laundry, but he didn't love it, either. It was just a thing he had to do. And a thing he had to do now, considering he had already worn most of his shirts twice....

Chekov arrived at his room. He walked in and went over to his closet, grabbing his laundry hamper and leaving the room with it in hand, which was no easy feat, considering it was huuuge.

Chekov made his way down to the floor where the laundry room was. He walked over to an open washer (granted, they were all open—no one else wanted to be caught dead washing their undies in broad daylight). He carefully measured out the perfect amount of soap and poured it in, starting the water.

(Now, how did the Enterprise manage to store enough water to wash over four hundred crew members' laundry? And why were their washers and dryers still only twenty-first century technology, despite it being well into the twenty-third century? Shh. Don't question it. And if you really have a problem with it, ask the directors of the movies. Or the author of this story, if you want a completely BS reason.)

Chekov hummed tunelessly as he cheerfully dumped his clothes into the washer. It was a good day to do laundry. Honestly, any day was a good day to do laundry, so long as the ship wasn't under attack or Kirk, Bones, and Spock weren't trying to borrow the laundry room to have a quickie in between shifts.

Chekov shuddered as he remembered the two horrible incidents that had occurred the previous two times he had attempted to do laundry.

The first had involved a certain captain and his two lovers, and resulted in Chekov backing out of the laundry room slowly, laundry forgotten, as he promptly went to go wash his eyes out with bleach (kids, do not try this at home unless you are an incredibly amazingly cute Russian boy named Pavel Andreievich Chekov and even then you probably shouldn't do it).

The second time he had been trying to do laundry was when Khan had attacked their ship, and they were crashing down into Earth's atmosphere. Due to gravity going wonky and the ship rocking around, bleach had somehow gotten into his laundry. Needless to say, all of his uniforms had been pink for weeks after.

Chekov sighed happily as he put the last article of clothing into the washer. Then he closed the washing machine's lid and dusted off his hands, not because they needed dusting off really, but more for show and bECAUSE HE COULD.

Suddenly, Chekov's tummy grumbled. "Feed me, da?" it shouted with a tiny adorable Russian accent.

Chekov turned around to leave the room. While his laundry was being washed, he would have plenty of time to go grab a snack. Maybe he would treat himself and break out that secret stash of Russian candies he had hidden under the mattress in his bunk...ooh, the mere thought made Chekov feel deliciously rebellious.

As the adorable little Russian was preparing to leave, he spotted Sulu entering the laundry room, holding a large basket filled with clothes.

Sulu spotted Chekov and grinned, hurrying over to his friend. "Hi, Pavel!" He smiled. "Whatcha doing?"

"I em doing laundry," Chekov replied cheerfully. "Vhat about you?"

Sulu looked surprised. "Look at that! I'm doing laundry, too! What a surprise!"

Chekov smiled. "I know, right? I mean, it's not like ve'd both be in ze laundry room to both do laundry or anysing."

Sulu nodded. He began to start his own load of laundry, but suddenly his communicator beeped. He paused and picked it up. "Sulu here."

Immediately after he said that, a long angry string of words and cusses came out that basically told Sulu to get his ass back up to the bridge. (The author is just too lazy to write them out and provide a decent reason why.)

Sulu grinned sheepishly. "Looks like I've gotta go back up to fix something. They said something about the Enterprise being stuck in reverse or something." He turned to leave, then paused. "Shoot, I forgot about my laundry." He looked at Chekov with puppy eyes (eW NO SULU PLEASE LEAVE THE PUPPY DOG EYES TO CHEKOV).

"I can do your laundry for you," Chekov offered. He wouldn't have offered if it hadn't been Sulu, his bestest friend ever since back in the academy...bestest friend...and more (wink wink nudge nudge).

Sulu cheered and hugged Chekov. "Thanks, Checkie! And as a thanks for you doing my laundry, later I'll do you!"

Chekov hugged Sulu back. He smiled, nodded, and agreed. It wasn't until Sulu was gone that he realized exactly what Sulu had said.

Chekov's eyes widened. "Do me?!" He frowned in confusion. "Vhat does zat mean?"

Chekov shrugged it off and turned to do Sulu's laundry.

While he did Sulu's laundry, Chekov systematically went through any and all pockets on any and all articles of clothing. He had learned to do that the hard way when he left a pen in one of his own pockets, which had resulted in a suspiciously-shaped stain on some of his pants.

Chekov put his hand in one of Sulu's pockets and extracted what looked like candy wrappers. And, upon closer inspection, the wrappers appeared to have Russian on them. They were the wrappers of the exact same type of candies that Chekov had in his super secret stash—they were even the same amount as what Chekov had.

Chekov frowned curiously. Did Sulu discover Chekov's super secret sweet stash (try saying that five times fast)? Had he—gasp—eaten Chekov's precious candies?!

Chekov laughed and dismissed the thought. Sulu wouldn't do that.

"It is cool zat ve haff ze same taste in candy," he mumbled to himself, tossing the wrappers in a nearby trash can that randomly appeared out of nowhere just for convenience.

After he finished going through all of the pockets in Sulu's clothes, Chekov put the last of Sulu's laundry in the washing machine (although admittedly, he did kidnap a pair of Sulu's boxers for...reasons...shhh, don't tell Sulu that).

Chekov smiled happily. "Zere, now I ken go do ewerysing I haff planned out!"

Just then, Kirk entered the laundry room. He smiled at the young ensign in front of him. "Hey, Chekov! How's it going?"

"Ze going is good," Chekov chirped cheerily in return. "I vas just finishing Sulu's laundry for him."

"Aww, that's nice of you." Kirk suddenly got a bit of a calculating look in his eyes. "...Sayyy, Chekov, would you terribly mind doing my laundry, too? I have a very important meeting in medical bay, and by that I mean I'm going to go screw Bones over a desk like he's always wanted me to do."

Chekov reeeallyyy didn't need to know that, so in order to keep his captain from continuing talking about his sexual encounters, he hastily agreed to do Kirk's laundry for him.

Kirk paused in the middle of describing just exactly what he was going to do to McCoy. "Sweet!" he whooped. He affectionately patted Chekov on the head, successfully messing up the young Russian's hair as he walked out. "You're so dependable, Checkers."

Chekov hastily patted his hair back down in a semblance of neatness (not that it was ever really neat in the first place—more like organized chaos). He grumbled a bit good-naturedly under his breath as he did so. "'Checkers'? I do not understand ze keptin's need to call me zat...it is wery odd...."

Nevertheless, he began on Kirk's laundry.

As he did the captain's laundry, he did what he usually did and went through the pockets, emptying their contents into a little pile that he would give back to Kirk when he came back from his "important meeting." The pile was mostly made up of little silvery packets.

Chekov held up one of the packets. "Vat is zis?" he mused aloud curiously. "Ees eet...candy or somesing?"

He shrugged it aside and continued to put Kirk's laundry in the washing machine.

Chekov was just finishing up Kirk's laundry when Uhura hurried in distractedly.

"Hey, Chekov," she said distractedly as she dumped her laundry basket ungracefully down in front of the washer next to him. She began to start her laundry, talking into an earpiece as she did so.

As she was measuring soap into the machine, Uhura caught sight of the small mountain of silver packets next to Chekov and choked. She looked at it, eyes wide.

"Are—are those all yours?!" she spluttered.

Chekov looked at the packets, then at Uhura. "No," he responded. "Zey are ze keptain's. Why?"

Uhura shook her head. "Figures they're his."

Chekov frowned slightly, curious. "Why? What are zey?"

Uhura's eyes widened again. "You don't know—um, they're nothing important," she hastily said, having no desire to corrupt their innocent Chekov (then someone would probably be out for her blood...either Sulu, Chekov's boyfriend, or Kirk, who immensely enjoyed telling sex jokes about Chekov that the poor boy didn't even understand). "Why do you even have something that's the captain's?" she tried to divert him.

"Oh, I em doing ze keptain's laundry for him!" Chekov explained to her, successfully distracted.

Uhura tilted her head as she began to sort through her laundry a bit. "Why? Shouldn't that idiot be doing his own laundry?"

"He asked me to do it for him," Chekov explained. "I said I vould to get him to stop telling me about his sex life."

Uhura nodded in understanding. She herself had done many a thing to get Kirk to stop babbling on about his sex life before.

Suddenly, a communication came through on her earpiece.

"Aw, damn," she cursed, "I have to get back to the bridge. And I've already started the washer!" She frowned and sighed. "Ah, well."

"I ken do it for you," Chekov suggested. "I do not mind. I em doing ewerybody else's laundry for zem, after all."

"Aw, would you?" Uhura said distractedly, already trying to translate the communication in her head. "That's so sweet of you!" She gave Chekov a quick hug and hurried off.

Face red, Chekov watched Uhura leave, then turned to do her laundry. "Ai, zis will take a little vhile. Why did I agree to do all of zis laundry?" He sighed, the smile temporarily melting off his face. But it quickly came back alongside his optimism. "Is okay! I vill just hurry! Zen I will still haff time to do what I haff planned!"

Whistling happily, Chekov began to do Uhura's laundry.

While doing Uhura's laundry, he came across something he had never seen before. It was lacy, and it had straps, and it looked like it....

Chekov yelped and dropped the thing like it had burned him.

It was a bra.

"Nyet, nyet, nyet!" he panicked. "I em not—I should haff not seen zat! I—" he hastily shoved it and the rest of her clothing into the washer, "I did not see it! Of course not!" He laughed nervously, face beet-red. "Eheh...."

"Aye, what didn't ya see, laddie?" came a voice behind him.

Chekov let out a little yelp again and froze while holding another article of clothing, He whirled around to see Scotty standing behind him in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

"H-hi, Mister Scott," Chekov managed shakily.

"Call me Scotty," the Scotsman responded. "And hullo to you too, Chekov. Nice day to do laundry, isn't it?"

Chekov nodded. "Yes, it sure is!" He smiled as the engineer began his own laundry in the washing machine next to the one with Uhura's laundry in it.

"Lad," Scotty said as he began to shove red shirts and black pants into the machine, "that isn't your laundry, is it?" He paused. "Because if it is, that's okay, I'm fine with LGBT and crossdressing and all that, but when did you start wearing those?" He gestured to the article of clothing in the young ensign's hands.

"Eh?" Chekov looked distractedly down at the piece of clothing and froze before exploding in loud, embarrassed protests, his face even redder than it had been before. "No! No! I em not...zese are Lieutenant Uhura's, sir! I em doing her laundry for her!"

Chekov hastily threw the lacy panties into the washing machine.

Scotty burst into loud laughter that died down when the lights in the room suddenly blinked off and back on again.

"Bloody ensigns!" he cursed. "Did they [insert something scientific here] again?!" He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to look at Chekov. "Look, could ya do my laundry, too? I'm sorry, but I'd rather that we actually have a ship left to do laundry on later. I'll owe ya one!"

And he was gone before Chekov could even say anything.

Chekov stared after Scotty. "Well...I guess I will just...do Mister Scott's laundry for him?" He shrugged. "Should not be wery hard. I can do zat."

He began to finish dumping clothes in the washing machine.

"I em spending a lot of time today doing laundry," he commented to himself as he did.

"Yup, and you're going to spend a lot more time doing even more of it, kid!"

Chekov sighed slightly. Again? He was usually cheerful and eager-to-please, but even a genius (especially a genius) could only do so much laundry before everything started to go downhill.

The young ensign turned to see a rumpled-looking Doctor McCoy smirking at him.

Chekov frowned. Wait, but hadn't the captain said he was going down to find the doctor in sickbay and...?

Suddenly he spotted the rather large red mark just peeking out from under the neck of McCoy's shirt.

Chekov flushed. "Zat was fast...," he murmured to himself.

"What did ya say, kid?" Bones raised his eyebrows.

"U-uh, nosing, nosing!" Chekov hastened to say.

"Anyway!" the doctor said loudly, holding out his laundry basket. "I heard you were doing everyone's laundry from a certain someone" - undoubtedly Kirk; maybe they liked to talk about laundry or something while going at it...although that was a weird kink indeed - "and I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity." He shoved his laundry basket into Chekov's hands without giving the poor boy a chance to even say anything. "Well, see you around, kid!" He waved to the Russian as he walked off, whistling.

Chekov sighed. Ah, well. He might as well do the doctor's laundry for him. It was the least he could do, he supposed. The doctor was always saving all of their butts, anyway.

Chekov started up yet another washing machine and reached into McCoy's basket to grab some laundry.

Absentmindedly, the young Russian looked down and froze.

On top of the pile of laundry was a pair of pants. And on those pants was a rather large, suspicious-looking stain.

Chekov gulped. That wasn't...that wasn't...was it?

Suddenly, Bones ducked back into the laundry room. "Oh, and could you put some bleach on the top outfit? Jim spilled whiskey on it last night, the idiot." And he was gone again.

Chekov breathed a sigh of relief.

He soon found himself taking back that sigh of relief, though.

Having finished putting in McCoy's laundry, Chekov turned around to leave. He would come back later to switch everything from the washers to the driers. "Ah, is good to be done!" Smiling, Chekov looked up and froze, the smile melting off of his face immediately.

There was a line of people holding laundry baskets, a line so long it stretched out the door of the laundry room.

Chekov gaped. How had he not noticed that earlier?!

"Hi, Chekov," the few at the front of the line chorused.

Chekov jumped slightly. "Ah, hello." He looked nervously at the line. "C...ken I help you?"

"Yes!" several of the others chorused.

"We were hoping you could do our laundry," one of the ensigns at the front said, looking expectantly at the poor young Russian.

Flustered, Chekov hesitated before saying anything.

Then the buzzers of all of the washers went off simultaneously.

Chekov jumped again. Doing the laundry of all of these people...switching over the laundry to the driers...he was beginning to feel severely overwhelmed.

Chekov felt something building up in his chest. What was this feeling? Was it...anger? But he was a cheerful, young, bounce-off-the-walls, happy-go-lucky ensign that lived off of caffeine, pop-tarts, and farting rainbow cats. Cheerful, young, bounce-off-the-walls, happy-go-lucky ensigns that lived off of caffeine, pop-tarts, and farting rainbow cats didn't feel anger or frustration or any negative emotions. They stayed positive...right?

But whatever the feeling was, it was building up fast. He didn't want to do this. He was supposed to go relax and eat some of his favorite candy and then "fence" with Sulu and have the perfect day off. And doing the laundry of all of the four hundred thirty-two crew members on the USS Enterprise was not part of the perfect day off.

So he let the anger explode.

"Nyet! No! No!" he shouted. "I em not doing your laundry for you! You ken do it yourself! I had a wery good day planned out, and now I only haff tventy-fife minutes before I haff to get back to vork!"

The person first in line had the decency to look sheepish, but maybe that was just because Chekov had just deafened them. The others just looked disappointed.

"So you won't do our laundry?" a brave (or maybe just stupid—who dares face the wrath of an angry Russian whiz kid other than an idiot and maybe Jim Kirk?) soul piped up.

"NYET!" Chekov shouted.

Spock popped up out of nowhere, typing something down on his PADD. "Fascinating," he said calmly, "so it is indeed possible for Ensign Chekov to get angry. I suspect that this moment shall go down in Enterprise history."

Chekov glared at Spock, but as he was an adorable little puppy, it looked more cute than it did threatening. "I em so ower zis!" He stomped out of the laundry room. "Goodbye!"

Spock and the others gaped as they watched Chekov retreat. Goodbye, huggable teddy bear, hello salty…eh, he was still a teddy bear.

\---

Upon reaching his room, Chekov stormed into the room and threw himself down on his bed, breathing hard through his nose.

Once calmed down slightly, Chekov adopted a bit of an amazed expression. "Wow...is zis vat anger feels like?" he wondered. "It feels wery good." He let a slow grin spread across his face. "And now, to calm down, I sink I vill eat some of my faworite Russian candies." He reached under his bed for the box, retrieving it and opening it...

...and staring at the mere crumbs that remained.

Devastated, Chekov let the box drop from his hands. He stared ahead of him, stunned.

His eyes fell on his roommate's—Sulu's—bed. And he remembered the wrappers he had found in Sulu's pants pocket.

That odd feeling of rage began to build up in Chekov again, and it manifested in a loud, supposed-to-be-angry-but-was-really-more-like-adorable yell.

"SULUUU!"

Across the ship, in his position at the helm, Sulu shivered suddenly, a bad feeling going through him.

Huh. Sulu shrugged. Eh, probably nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHA that was TOTAL crack my gawd. xD And I had SO much fun with it~ I am the ONLY person who could write a ten-page story about someone doing LAUNDRY.  
> SO. Anyone excited about Star Trek: Beyond? *raises hand slowly* TELL ME: Is it good? (no spoilers tho plz) I want to go see it sooo badly, but I promised a friend (@chwekov) I'd go see it with them sometime after the rushes settled down, so we could yell at the movie screen and throw popcorn and the works.... *cries* ;^; but mewants to see it soo bad....  
> Anyway, a quick moment of silence for our beloved Anton Yelchin, the best damn Chekov the world will ever see. I got into the fandom after his death, so I wasn't really as attached to him as others were when he passed, but...no one deserves that. Not ever. Especially not so young and successful and.... Yeah, quick moment of silence.  
> ...  
> At least he will be forever immortalized in the three Star Trek reboots as the amazingly adorable Chekov, I guess. :/ That's better than nothing.


End file.
